


Prompting

by BrynTWedge



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring Greg Lestrade, Caring Mycroft Holmes, Dating, Domestic Fight, Greg Lestrade Suffers, Greg Whump, M/M, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft To The Rescue, Near-Death Experience, Poor Lestrade, Prompt Fic, Relationship Problems, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-01-31 20:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12689259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynTWedge/pseuds/BrynTWedge
Summary: A prompt challenge from Tumblr, using ALL OF THEM. Prompts are underlined.Story follows Greg and Mycroft dating, having some relationship difficulties that cause Mycroft to flee on an assignment. Greg is captured by a gang he'd been tracking and tortured while Mycroft is away. He gives up hope of being found in time...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The post with all of the prompts: [ HERE ](http://an-exotic-writer.tumblr.com/post/145550544049/five-word-prompts)

“Gregory, it’s so good to see you again.” Mycroft spoke, inclining his head to the approaching DI.   
“Mycroft, you too.” Greg smiled. He stopped right before him, and leant up to give him a quick kiss.   
“Gregory…you’re injured.” Mycroft noticed, frowning.   
“Oh, yeah… that.  It’s just a cut, really.” Greg said, shrugging. Mycroft ignored him, and inspected the wound across Gregory’s temple.   
“Hey, don’t… it’s fine. There was a car, a bird, and…I fell, that’s all.” Greg insisted, shying away from Mycroft’s outstretched hand. Mycroft dropped it to his side.   
“It looks recent…  when did it all happen?” Mycroft asked, tilting his head. There was something Gregory wasn’t telling him. Greg coughed uncertainly.   
“Alright, fine… I was walking along the street to my flat when I noticed a bird flying overhead, and then it pooped on the windscreen of a taxi which then slammed on the breaks and swerved about. The driver, a young bloke, was fine but he was swearing his head off when he got out. He look a look at the smeared bird dropping and just shouted ‘bro…that’s so…not cool…’ and I just found it all hilarious. So I cracked up laughing… and then fell flat on my face.” Greg explained, flushing red. Mycroft chuckled.   
“And why are you embarrassed about that?”  
“Just…cause…  it’s real smooth, tripping over air.  So… can we go eat? I’m starving.” Greg shrugged, laughing. 

Mycroft nodded and ushered him in towards the restaurant. It was indeed starting to become a bit awkward, standing on the street outside the door. Gregory had chosen the place, and while it was obvious he’d tried to chose somewhere that was more comfortable for him, Mycroft still found it awkward. It was more like a pub than Mycroft enjoyed. Still, he said nothing. He didn’t want to insult Gregory when he’d put effort into pleasing him. 

“I had thought that you’d gotten into a brawl of some kind on your way here.” Mycroft said as they walked to their table.   
“I don’t usually pick fights with strangers.” Greg said, grinning.   
“Usually?”  
“Well, I guess I’ve tried hitting on a few of them that’s led to a fight…” Greg admitted.   
“So you only fight the attractive ones?” Mycroft joked, taking a seat at their table.   
“Hey, it’s not like I walk up to them and shout ‘fight me, you attractive stranger’. Dating’s just… hard.” Greg chuckled while joining him.   
“I should hope present company is excluded.” Mycroft spoke, picking up his menu.  
“For now, yeah.” Greg mused, picking up his own menu. He didn’t see the stressed look Mycroft shot in his direction. 

They’d been dating for almost a year. They hadn’t really had much conflict between them… but Mycroft admitted that was because he’d often hide at work until Gregory had calmed down enough to talk without anger. He didn’t particularly enjoy manipulating him like that, but he didn’t like being shouted at even more. The only other people to have shouted at him without finding themselves ‘reassigned’ were his parents. And Gregory did have quite the temper on him sometimes. It was often founded, but still… Mycroft didn’t enjoy the swearing that escalated from it. 

“You want a drink?” Greg asked Mycroft.   
“Um, I haven’t looked at the list yet.” Mycroft responded, and flipped his menu over.   
“You have to go up to the bar and order it, and I figured you’d not want to do that… so that why I’m asking.” Greg explained. Mycroft stiffly nodded.   
“Thank you. I don’t know… whatever.” Mycroft said. If it came from a bar… it really didn’t matter what it was. It wouldn’t be up to his standards anyway. Greg nodded and walked away. He returned a few minutes later with a pint of beer in one hand, and a glass of red wine in the other.  
“I got myself a pint, and  here’s a glass of whatever for you.” Greg stated, passing the glass to Mycroft. Mycroft rolled his eyes, but thanked him. 

They ordered their meals, Greg being the one to go up to the counter and actually place the orders. Mycroft ordered the Thai chicken tenders, and Greg picked a steak. Greg leant back in his chair and took a swig of his beer, before sighing happily.   
“So… how did everything go?” Mycroft asked, sipping his wine.   
“With what?”  
“The case you’ve been working on for the past few days.”   
“How did you know the hearing was today? Oh…right… never mind. Forgot you stalked me all day.” Greg joked. Mycroft looked less than impressed, but waited for Greg to continue.  
“It went pretty good, at the hearing. The gang probably wasn’t too pleased about it all, though. We’re right on their tails. The guy we brought in was pretty up there in it all. He wouldn’t give away much about the operation and those running it, but it was enough to know where they are. It was a little scary, actually, the way he’d brag about all the things he’d done. He didn’t have any remorse for it at all. He didn’t seem to care he was being put away, either. He just laughed at me and said I’d be next.” 

Mycroft looked at the table. He didn’t take threats on Gregory’s life lightly, but he couldn’t talk about it without giving away too much of his feelings. He liked Gregory, he really did… but he was always afraid to allow himself to get too close. He had his reputation of a careless, detached iceman to protect. He couldn’t be seen showing affection for … a… partner? boyfriend? 

Their meals were delivered as Mycroft sat there thinking, uncomfortable. Greg had noticed, but didn’t say anything. He was always careful about making Mycroft feel as comfortable as possible. He knew the man was rather out of his depth when it came to things like relationships… but Greg was patient. He actually found it exciting, taking the slow road, teaching Mycroft things and watching him develop. He just had to push the boundaries a little further each time and allow the British Government to acclimatise to it. He liked to call it ‘sensitisation’ therapy. 

Greg ate his meal quickly; he’d not had much of a chance for lunch today and his breakfast comprised of one miserable orange. Mycroft seemed more disinterested in his meal than he normally did.   
“Everything alright?” Greg asked, having finished his steak.  
“Yes, fine. I just am not particularly hungry.” Mycroft commented, looking away. 

Greg frowned a little. He never liked to bring up Mycroft’s eating habits. It inevitably ended in complaints and a distance between them. Greg didn’t want to sound presumptuous and as if he had a right to dictate Mycroft’s life, but he cared for him deeply and wanted him to be healthy. Or at the very least, not unwell. It was just in his nature, to be protective. But Mycroft was always avoidant and grumpy if Greg brought it up. Greg never pushed it… he hated it when Mycroft left to avoid the argument. He wanted to tell him as much, but that would only create more problems.

“So…  are you finishing that or…?” Greg asked, pointing to the two chicken tenders that remained on the man’s plate.   
“No, but I hardly think it proper for you to take food off my plate.” Mycroft snapped.   
“Proper? Who cares?” Greg chuckled.   
“What would the patrons think?”   
“If you’re talking about us being on a date, then I can say that  anyone could tell from here.” Greg said, waving his hand between them and around the restaurant. Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes, and pushed his plate towards Gregory. The DI quickly snatched the chicken and then ate them with his fingers. Mycroft groaned in exasperation, but couldn’t help but remain a little interested watching Gregory suck the crumbs off his fingers.  
_Why does he have to be so god damned sexy?_

A waiter came and collected their plates, and so they remained at the table to finish their drinks.   
“Just a reminder about next week. You remembered to take time off, right?” Greg said casually.   
“Did you think I forgot?Honestly, Gregory…”  
“No, no… I know you don’t forget things. I just wanted to remind you. I’m… I’m rather excited, is all.” Greg said, swirling the last of his beer in his hand. 

Greg had planned to take the whole week off and spend it with Mycroft. He’d made sure Mycroft took time off as well. It would be their first anniversary as a couple, and Greg wanted to make it special. He wasn’t going to propose or anything… but he wanted to take the next step. He wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that, but he at least wanted to be able to be open in public. Mycroft would often behave as if there wasn’t anything going on between them should they meet on official matters.

They left the restaurant, and Mycroft offered Greg a ride home. It was early on that Greg had worked out that Mycroft used it as a means to ask to stay over, or to invite Greg back to his place.He’d told him not long afterwards that Mycroft could just ask if he was up for sex that night, but just saying it had made Mycroft turn beetroot and hide himself in his phone. Luckily Greg found it adorable, and so was willing to play the game. He’d started asking Mycroft for lifts from that moment on, though. It did made it a little awkward when he legitimately did need a lift somewhere. 

Greg kissed him deeply for most of the car ride, and he could tell that Mycroft was getting worked up. He’d long since stopped caring if the barrier to the driver was soundproof, and so moaned when Mycroft stroked down his belly.   
“Myc…” Greg breathed.   
“Hm?”  
“We can’t do it here.”  
“Is that so?” Mycroft teased. It was like he was an entirely different person behind closed doors. Ignoring Gregory, Mycroft continued to kiss him. He plunged his tongue into Gregory’s mouth, sliding along it how he knew Gregory liked. The groan that resounded in his throat told Mycroft that he was doing a good job.   
“Seriously, Myc…  quit it or I’ll bite.” Greg teased, and Mycroft just chuckled. He moved back to his own seat.   
“You’re no fun sometimes.” Mycroft hummed with a grin.   
“Mycroft Holmes without the ability to speak… England would fall!” Greg joked.  
“I can kiss you other places, you know.” 

As soon as the door to Greg’s flat was closed, Greg pressed himself up against Mycroft, sandwiching him against the door. He kissed him hard and needy, and Mycroft responded in kind. He ran his hands over Mycroft’s body, trying to slide the jacket off his shoulders. 

“Bedroom.” Mycroft stated, and Greg nodded. He grabbed him by the wrist and led him to his bedroom. Mycroft started to undress himself; he wasn’t opposed to Gregory’s gentle touches, but he wasn’t impressed with the way he tossed his clothes to the floor to get wrinkled. So, he liked to remove his clothes and fold them himself. Greg didn’t mind, he liked to watch. He paid extra attention to Mycroft’s slender fingers making quick work of buttons, of the way Mycroft’s milky flesh would slide out of the clothing, the way Mycroft would bend with his buttocks facing Greg to undo his shoes. 

It had been a while since they’d last spend the night together; both of them had been having long days at work. It explained why they were particularly needy. Greg couldn’t help but notice that Mycroft had lost weight in the mere few weeks since he’d seen him naked last. His heart lurched at the thought of Mycroft not taking proper care of himself. Greg wanted to take care of him, especially if he wasn’t doing it well enough. He made the decision to talk about it with him soon. They’d avoided the conversation while it wasn’t being a problem, but if it continued… it would be a problem. But so could the conversation.  
_Just don’t fuck it up_ _, Lestrade._

“Is everything alright, Gregory?” Mycroft asked, noticing the concerned look in his lover’s eyes.   
“Um… yeah. Sorry. I was just thinking about something.”  
“Well, I hope that I’ll change that.” Mycroft responded, approaching him. “I want to fuck you so hard you can’t think a coherent sentence.”  
“Hnrrrrnng.” Greg groaned, swallowing hard.  
“Yes, like that.” Mycroft chuckled, and pressed himself against Gregory’s hot skin. 


	2. The Fight

Greg was annoyed. He’d made a lovely dinner, and even set out candles. Hell, he’d cleaned the whole flat even. And Mycroft hadn’t shown up, without even telling him. The dinner had gone cold, and would not be the same reheated. 

After three hours of waiting, Greg decided to call Anthea. He had her number in reserve, but hadn’t used it yet outside of Sherlock-emergencies when Mycroft wouldn’t respond. By all accounts, Mycroft should have had the day off as well — the start of their week off together — and so really, Anthea might not know where he is. But Greg thought he might as well try. 

“Hello?”  
“Anthea, hi.”  
“Detective Inspector Lestrade, hello. Is this a matter of urgency, or can Sherlock’s antics wait?”  
“Um… this isn’t to do with Sherlock. I just was wondering if you knew where Mycroft was.” Greg said, a little confused.   
“Mr Holmes’ schedule is hardly your concern, Detective.” Anthea stated bluntly. Greg was taken aback at her rudeness.   
“Um…I… I know I don’t need to know his _whole_ schedule, but I believe I have a right to know the parts that are related to me.” Greg reasoned.  
“And why would any of it be related to you, if not for Sherlock?” Anthea asked. Greg was stumped…it was starting to sound like…  
“He… he hasn’t told you? What…what did he say then, when he asked for the week off?” Greg stammered.  
“Mr Holmes does not have the week off, Detective. Are you certain you are recalling correctly? He has specified for mostly at-home work, if that is what you remember? However I don’t understand why he would tell you that.” Anthea asked, curiosity in her tone of voice. 

Greg’s stomach had twisted into knots. He was both very upset, and very angry. Mycroft had kept their relationship a secret to everyone at his work… so, essentially, everyone he knew.   
“How could he have hidden it from you of all people for so long?!” Greg snapped.   
“What are you talking about, Lestrade?”  
“Me! Your arrogant prick of a boss failed to mention that he’s been dating me for the past year!” Greg ranted into the phone.   
“Hey… that wasn’t so niceto say, but I can understand your frustration if that is true. No, he has not made it clear that he is seeing someone.” Anthea said carefully.  
“He… he left moments ago. The work he was doing was unfortunately rather pressing. He should arrive shortly. Good evening, Detective Inspector.” Anthea said, and hung up the phone. 

Greg with seething. It was a strange mix of being utterly offended, enraged, and deeply hurt. He was fretting over how to bring up talking about how he cared for Mycroft’s wellbeing… and now he learns that Mycroft didn’t consider him important enough to even tell people about. Not even ‘people’, but his _assistant_ for Christ’s sake. It was almost like a betrayal. 

Unfortunately for Mycroft, he arrived at that moment. Greg was still fuming from the information, so much so that he was gripping the kitchen bench and taking deep breaths to control himself.   
“I apologise for my tardiness, Gregory, however…” Mycroft said as he walked into the room and put his umbrella down. He paused when he saw the glare that was shot in his direction.   
“I…I had not anticipated that it would anger you so…” Mycroft stated, a little shaken.   
“I just had a delightful conversation with Anthea.” Greg snarled. He was glad to see the look of shock on Mycroft’s face.   
“You haven’t told anyone about me, have you? No,  cross that. Don’t answer that. I _KNOW_ you haven’t told anyone about me. What I want to know is _why._ ” Greg said, breathing heavily.  
“Gregory, concealing our relationship was not intended to hurt you.” Mycroft said. It was clearly the wrong thing to say.   
“What?  Have you lost your mind? How the fuck is hiding me supposed to make me feel?”  
“I meant to say… it was more for my own self preservation… my work colleagues are required to see me in a certain light…”  
“So you’re ashamed of me because of what your _work colleagues_ would think of you? You value their opinion of you so much that you would prefer to hide me entirely? For  fuck’s sake, what’s your problem? People don’t do that when they care about someone! Or is that it? You don’t care about me? You’re just using me to escape the boredom or to get off, is that it?” Greg shouted.   
“I can see you’re quite enraged by this…” Mycroft said, his body shaking, “Perhaps it would be best if I left…”  
“Don’t you dare walk away from this, Mycroft.  Don’t even think about it. You have no fucking idea how much it hurts me when you just abandon me like that to avoid talking about things that _need saying_.  Can’t you listen to me? Can’t you for once just sit down and fucking listen to what I have to say?” Greg commanded. Mycroft had stilled, but managed to jerkily nod his head. He remained standing at the door, however. 

“That was not my intention.” Mycroft mumbled, averting his gaze.   
“It seems that you do a lot of shit that isn’t your intention.” Greg snapped. He sighed.   
“Listen to me, Mycroft. I care about you deeply. So much so that I was fearing your reaction to me forcing you to talk with me about your weight and eating. I noticed how thin you’ve gotten lately. I didn’t want you to get hurt from me. But now I find out that me getting hurt from you wasn’t even a consideration of yours, let alone a concern.”   
“It was always a consideration, Gregory.” Mycroft said, trying to keep himself together. He was wanting to shout back, be the powerful man he was, but he was also desperate to flee. This was an emotional issue, and he didn’t know how to handle those.   
“I don’t need this now, Gregory. I’ve had a long day…”  
“And what? I’m supposed to just drop this because you’re tired? No.  Give and take. That’s life, Mycroft, and you’ve been doing an awful lot of taking with regards to consideration, and not much giving of it. So you are going to respond to me.”  
“I have been, what do you want me to do, Gregory? Shout back at you?”  
“Do it. I dare you. You act like you’re so collected all the time, but we’re never going to solve anything if you just fucking turn tail and run any time a problem comes up!” Greg shouted. He honestly did want Mycroft to shout back. All of the conflicts before in his life had ended up that way, and that’s how they got resolved. He didn’t know what to do when one party just ran from it all and no progress was made. 

“You say I don’t consider you, Gregory. But you don’t understand. I was late today because I was working solid in an attempt to be here on time and avoid being sent over into the Middle East. I ordinarily would have just accepted the assignment, but no… I chose to do all that I could to resolve the problem from here because I wanted to be here with you for the week. I chose to endanger countless lives overseas, and positions within this government, out of consideration for you. Don’t tell me I’m inconsiderate.” Mycroft said, his voice raised and sharp, but not shouting.   
“Fine, so you didn’t want to ruin the week. But you didn’t even fucking get the week off, did you? You told me you did. Why did you lie to me?”  
“People lie all the time. I had thought you’d be used to it by now, given your profession and divorce.” Mycroft snapped. Greg’s eyes widened in shock.   
“Great. Perfect. _nice_. Fuck this. ” Greg shouted, and made to leave.   
“And where do you think you’re going?” Mycroft growled, standing up straight in front of the door.   
“I can’t be around you right now. You hide me for a whole fucking year, you lie to me, and then you insult me. I can’t do it.” Greg grumbled, and grabbed his jacket. He stood before Mycroft, trying to look intimidating.  
“First you tell me I’m forbidden from running from this argument, and then you leave? How hypocritical of you.” Mycroft sneered, unmoving.   
“Then what do you suggest?! Get out of my way, Mycroft.  This is not working out. Not like this.”  
“Oh.” Mycroft exhaled, realisation dawning on his face. His anger was suddenly replaced with dread. Was Gregory breaking up with him?  
“You need to work out if I’m important enough to be worth a little difficulty in your life from others. Do you care about me at all? No,  forget I even asked you. I don’t want to hear the answer. If you did,  even if you still do… it obviously wasn’t like what I felt for you and what I had assumed you felt for me. You wouldn’t have treated me like some shameful secret if you had.” Greg strangled out, tears forming in his eyes. 

Mycroft stared at him, his heart breaking. He loved Gregory; he wanted to tell him how much he loved him… but he was a coward. He didn’t know how to atone for what was obviously a serious infraction. He hadn’t realised how deeply hurt it would make his partner. And the last thing he wanted to do was cause this wonderful man even more hurt.   
“Do you still want me?” Mycroft asked, trembling.  
“I don’t know at this point, Mycroft. I’m… everything is just…” Greg sighed. Honestly, he did. He really really did. But he needed Mycroft to know that he couldn’t treat him like that and have everything be fine. There was being understanding, and then there was being accepting of abuse. He’d seen enough abusive relationships in his job, as well as experiencing one himself, to know that he couldn’t keep going unless Mycroft was prepared to make some changes. 

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone.” Mycroft said, resigned, and grabbed his umbrella.   
“Mycroft…” Greg said, but he wasn’t sure what he was going to follow it with.   
“No, you’re right, Gregory. I lied to you, and I can understand why that would be hard for you. I have treated you badly. Merely saying that I did not know better is not an excuse. I…I deserve this.” Mycroft said, and raised a shaking hand to the door.   
“I don’t want it to end, Mycroft… I still care about you. This is just… a fight. Something we need to work on.” Greg said, his anger fading once hearing Mycroft’s understanding of his transgressions.   
“You are better off without me.” Mycroft stated to the floor. He pulled the door open and stepped out of it.  
“I… I won’t be in contact for a few days. I need to go, I need… I need to think. I’m going to the Middle East. I don’t know how I can make all this up to you, I really don’t… but at least I can give you the space you need while trying to work it out.” Mycroft spoke with feigned confidence. He then turned and walked away, using his umbrella to steady himself. 

Greg shut the door and sighed, pressing his forehead against the wood.  
_Fuck fuckity fuck.  
_ “Just… come back alive, okay?” Greg mumbled into the door. He didn’t want Mycroft to take stupid risks, or be distracted, while in a war zone…because of their fight. Greg loved him dearly, even despite the argument, and wanted to work out the issues. He wouldn’t ever forgive himself if Mycroft was killed over there.


	3. Capture

Greg strolled the streets in a foul mood. He’d asked his buddy to tag along with him, just so he could have some company. Mycroft’s absence was hitting him hard, and he’d only been gone a day. Greg didn’t often catch up with Alex, but he was one of the few people he could turn to when things were terrible, and whom would not continue to cause a fuss about it for days later. He’d be bombarded constantly if he’d met up with anyone from the Yard. 

“This really sucks.” Greg grumbled.   
“Yeah, well,  life really sucks. Feel better?” Alex joked, but stopped once he saw Greg’s frown. He gave Greg a sympathetic expression.  
“Don’t worry, mate.  Everything will fall into place.” Alex said, taking a drag from his cigarette.   
“I’m still pissed at him, but I want to work out this. I can’t do that if he keeps buggering off whenever we need to sort out an issue.” Greg complained.   
“Yeah. Well, at least you have the week off to relax.”   
“I honestly wish I had something to keep my mind of it, actually. But I can’t go back, they’d all just ask too many questions.”  
“Sounds a bit like you care just as much about your colleagues’ opinions as your boyfriend does.” Alex commented with a shrug.  
“Why do I even bother?Alex…It’s not the same.” Greg grumbled. 

They turned the corner and walked down a lesser-known street. It was dark from the shadows of the buildings, but Greg didn’t care. Dark suited him right now. That was, until, he noticed a group of people standing by some boxes where the street became an alleyway.  
_Shit_

He grabbed Alex roughly and dragged him to hide behind a skip that was conveniently there. Alex shouted, but Greg quickly put his hand over the man’s mouth.   
“Shh…be  quiet. They can hear us.” Greg uttered, and released Alex’s mouth.  
“Who?”  
“The Roberts gang. I just put one of their leaders away.” Greg responded, and then peered out to the group of men. The sound reverberated against the walls, and so Greg dearly hoped that they hadn’t been heard. But they couldn’t stay there forever. He reached into his pocket for his phone… only to discover the battery was dead.  
_Fuck._

He’d stayed up late staring at his phone, pondering if he should call Mycroft of not. He must have forgotten to put it on charge, or fallen asleep still staring at the screen… he couldn’t remember which.   
“Quick! Give me your phone.” Greg hissed into Alex’s ear.  
“It’s at home.”  
“What? Who leaves home without their phone?” Greg grumbled. 

He looked out to see where the men were again, to find them all staring right at them.   
“Quit staring! They’ll notice us!” Greg heard one of the men snap, before they all turned back to look at the ground. _So, the group probably could hear us as well, then. Great.  
_ “We have to leave…now.” Greg whispered.   
“I don’t understand…  who knew you’d be here?” Alex said.  
“I did.” A loud, deep voice rung out. Both Greg and Alex looked up to see a tall dark man hovering over them. Alex looked at Greg for an explanation, but Greg had no idea who he was.   
“The fuck? Who are _you_? ” Greg exclaimed, “You’re not in the Roberts gang… what do you want?”  
“No,” The man rolled, “They work for me. Boys.” 

Greg knew this was his chance; if they were ever going to escape, it was before the henchmen made it to them. Greg leapt to his feet to sprint away, but was met with a loud crack against his head. He screamed out in pain, and crumpled to the ground. The world span around him, and he desperately tried to stay conscious. The blurred shapes permitted him to register the group of men crowding him. He flailed his limbs about, unsuccessfully, and was quickly restrained.  
“Alex…” Greg groaned, but the darkness descended upon him. 

When Greg became aware of his surroundings, the first thing he noticed was the headache. The second thing he noticed was the voices. Two of them, distant sounding, male. He wrenched his eyes open, slowly, and found himself in a dark room. No, cell. He noticed that his arms and legs were bound and chained to the floor. The voices got louder, and he realised that they were coming from the guards outside of the door.   
“That  bitch better have my money.” One of them shouted.   
“Ya shouldn’t’ve given her any, Paul. Surely ya knew ya wouldn’t get it back.”  
“It wasn’t me, I swear!She took it off me.” 

Greg took the time to really investigate his surrounds. There was a table in the corner with an array of items on it, and a chair beside it. The walls and floor were made of concrete. There was no window. The door was made of steel, with a small hole in it. There was blood on the floor… his blood, it seemed. He shifted to see where it’d come from, and he noticed the stain on his shirt running down from a head wound. The chains clunked as he moved about, and his captors stopped speaking. There were footsteps, and then the door opened. It was the same man that had hit him in the alleyway. 

“Well, well, well. You took your time waking up.” The man chuckled. Greg noticed that his speech was a lot more refined than what he’d come to expect of gang members. He dragged the chair over from the table to sit in right before Greg.   
“Can’t say I’m sorry about that.” Greg responded. The man smiled.   
“You’ve got spirit. I like that. I like to see spirits break.”   
“I hate to disappoint you.” Greg sneered up at the man. His demeanour didn’t waiver, he just stayed calm and gave a small smile. It reminded Greg of Mycroft, actually.   
“You’re going to tell us what you know. And if I like what I hear, I’ll…”  
“Let me live, will you? Save it, I’ve heard it all before. I’m not telling you shit.” Greg snapped. 

The man gave a smirk, but his eyes remained hard and cold.  
“Perhaps we’ll have this conversation tomorrow.” He said, and stood. He nodded to the two henchmen as he left. They grinned evilly, and then shut the door. 

“Right, let’s see how we want to play this.” The first one, Paul, spoke.  
“Do whatever you want. I’m not talking.” Greg snapped.  
“Ha! Are you stupid, or stupid?” The second thug cried out. “You’ll talk. Not all at once, but in the end… they all talk.”  
He walked up to the table, and began to inspect the items upon it. Greg tried not to let his fear show as he caught a glimpse of them, one by one.  
“Really? Do I look stupid?” Greg retaliated, hoping to make his captors unnerved. Unfortunately, all it served to do was encourage them.  
“I think we should start with the iron, Bill.” Paul suggested gleefully. Bill nodded, and lifted a long pointed rod and a blowtorch. Greg knew he must have looked scared, because they both chuckled.  
“Are you at least going to tell me what you want from me?” Greg asked as they approached.  
“Yes. But we think ya need a bit of encouragemen’ first. Just so ya know how serious we are. I mean, ya should already, seein’ as you got Kevin in the cells already.”  
“An’ we really just wanna have some fun. Boss might want information…but us? Nah. We just wanna see the bloke that woulda gone ’n done us in _scream_.” Paul said, leaning forward to Greg.

By the time it was over, Greg was crying. First they’d stripped him, and undone the bounds so that they could spread his limbs out, where they chained them individually to the floor. He tried to last until they left him, but he couldn’t help it. He cried out from the pain. They used the torch to superheat the iron rod, and then poke him with it. His flesh singed and burnt, filling the small space with a foul odour. It made him feel sick. When every limb had marks on it, his torso spotted with burns, they finally decided it was time to leave him for the night. 

Greg sobbed. He wanted to be strong, but he couldn’t do it all the time. He could fight them when they were there actively interrogating him, but only if he allowed himself some respite when they weren’t there. He wondered what had become of his friend, Alex. He hoped that he’d made it to safety. He hoped that he’d gone to warn someone. But he knew deep down that it wasn’t likely. The Boss seemed to be a professional, and he wouldn’t leave a loose end like that. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that he was abducted when the Yard thought he was on holiday. Greg sighed. Not even Mycroft knew he was missing. Mycroft was god knows where, and not talking to him.  
“Shit, Mycroft.  For once, I need you. You and that ridiculous job of yours. I need you to save me.” Greg whimpered. 

~

Mycroft couldn’t sleep. He’d focused hard on his mission, and things were improving in that regard. But Gregory didn’t leave his mind. He knew he shouldn’t have fled, he knew he should have tried harder to work it out… but he was scared. He just didn’t _do_ emotions, and so it was all rather new to him. His lifelong strategy was avoid and suppress, and it wasn’t seeming to work well in tandem with a relationship. On the contrary, it had meant that everything simmered until exploding rather violently. 

He stared at the phone in his hand. He’d hoped that Gregory would call, or even text. But there had been nothing. He shouldn’t have expected it, really, given what had gone down. Gregory had been furious, but it had all stemmed from hurt that Mycroft had caused. Mycroft took a deep breath, and dialled Gregory. He knew that he had to do something, many things, to try and make amends… and so being the one to try contacting the other first seemed the right thing to do. 

The phone went to voicemail. Mycroft frowned. Gregory always had his phone on him, and so the most likely scenario was that he was avoiding Mycroft’s call. He decided to leave a message.  
“Hello? It’s me. I was - I, I don’t know. I guess I hoped that we could talk, maybe. Sorry. I know you’re still mad at me. I don’t know what I’m doing, really… I just… sorry.” Mycroft blurted out, surprised at how incoherent it was. He put his phone on the bedside table, and tried to get some rest. 

~

As promised, the Boss had returned the next day. He sat in the chair, same as before, with the same calm expression on his face.   
“I hope yesterday made your position clear to you.” He spoke carefully.   
“Seriously? Give me a break.” Greg spat. He was glad at seeing the surprise on the man’s face.  
“I assure you, I am quite capable of increasing your _sessions_. But we are both intelligent men…”  
“No,  you’re just…so, so stupid.” Greg snarled. The man raised his eyebrow, and if it weren’t for his dark skin, he would have looked just like Mycroft.   
“People — powerful people — know I’m here. And when they find me, well fuck… are you gonna be sorry.” Greg snapped proudly.  
“If you are referring to your boyfriend, Mycroft Holmes, then you should know I am aware of his trip to Iran. He does not know you are here, nor would he be able to find you before I break you into a snivelling mess.” The Boss stated calmly, his face turning up into a sneer. Greg swallowed hard. No, he’d not known they knew about that. Well, it seemed like he wasn’t going to get out of this situation. He decided he would fight them with all he had; go out proudly. 

“Now, Mr Lestrade. To start, I want you to tell me everything that my employee Kevin revealed to you.” The Boss stated.   
“How about you make me?” Greg shouted with a passion he really didn’t have.  
“Certainly, that can be arranged.” The Boss said with nonchalance. He stood and walked out of the room again. Part of Greg wondered why he made things difficult for himself, but the other part of him was proud to stand up for himself. 

The henchmen rounded towards him again. This time, it was Paul, and he held a scalpel.   
“Why is your boss so intent on knowing what Kevin said?” Greg asked him as he approached.   
“I think you don’t get how this works. We ask you the questions.” Paul said.   
“Well, have you ever heard of a conversation?” Greg muttered.   
“You want to know? Fine. Boss don’t like people rattin’ on ‘im. We need ta know what operations ain’t safe no more.” Bill piped up.   
“Pipe the fuck down, asshole. He ain’t supposed to know nothing.” Paul hissed to Bill.  
“Well, now he knows that Boss ain’t gonna just let this drop, don’t he? So now he might as well tell us now, instead o’ when there ain’t much left o’ him.” Bill reasoned, shooting Greg a sinister grin. 

Every cut made was excruciating. Greg involuntarily flinched every time the knife came towards his skin. They were careful to never cut too deeply, or to hit any major blood vessels. They’d obviously done it before. They wanted to inflict pain, not cause enough damage for their victim to escape from death. The cuts weren’t very long, aside from a few on his abdomen. But they were done painfully slowly. It was like fire. Greg had clenched his jaw tightly to prevent himself screaming, but it was only mildly effective. He couldn’t hold himself back from letting out the sheer agony when a bucket of alcohol was doused over his body. 

After some hours, the henchmen left. Greg was glad for the reprieve. He curled up as best he could on the concrete floor.  
“This is all a fucking disaster.” He mumbled to himself. He didn’t have it in him to cry anymore. He just felt empty and lost. He was going to die here, and no one was going to save him. It had only been two days… he still had another four before the Yard even noticed he was missing. And given what evidence had been left from his abduction… it was unlikely he would be found at all, even as a corpse. And to think that last week… he’d been looking forward to taking steps forward with his boyfriend towards a happy life together. 

~

Mycroft was upset that Gregory hadn’t contacted him still. Part of him wanted to be angry, and silent-treatment _him_ as well, but he knew that it was childish. He had to put in the work, and put his ego aside for it. 

The negotiations were going well enough, and the work he’d done the day of the fight had proven invaluable. His mind was in two places constantly, and so having notes before him were a god send. If he was lucky, he’d be home in another couple of days. But that thought scared him. If he was home, he’d have to confront Gregory. He didn’t want to avoid him, but he had hoped that they could resume talking while it was brief and over the phone. 

He tried to call him again, and again, it went to voicemail. Mycroft noted that this was the second time that there wasn’t a dial tone, as if Gregory had turned off his phone or blocked Mycroft’s number. He tried not to think too much about the latter option.  
“Gregory… I’m sorry. Please, I want to hear from you.  For once… I was wrong. I am not ashamed of you. I should have been honest and open about you to my work colleagues. There would have been no significant consequences for me. I believe I was just scared, and new to this whole dating thing. I’m not used to caring so much about someone else. Anyway, please call me.” 

Mycroft hung up before he would be cut off, pleased with his message. It was a much better one than the one the previous evening. 


	4. Nightmare

“Rise and fucking shine, motherfucker.”  
Greg was suddenly thrust awake by the shout and ice water being tossed over him. His body flinched and he groaned.   
“Fuck off. I mean it.” Greg snarled, groggy. He was sore all over. He knew there was literally nothing accomplished from his words, but he felt better being able to say them.   
“Heh, I like that ya’ve still got spirit in the mornin’.” Paul hummed, and made his way to the table of torture-instruments.   
“Wait… the big Boss man isn’t coming to try interrogate me today?” Greg asked, a little concerned that he was up for an even longer day of pain. Bill laughed.   
“He thought ya might ask. He told us ta tell ya, ‘I haven’t forgot you yet’. He’ll be in when he’s good ’n ready. Or rather… when _you’re_ good ’n ready.” Bill said.  
“Oh, so he will forget me. Charming.” Greg muttered, but was met with a swift punch to the head.  
“You’re just lucky he wants somethin’ from ya. That you’re not just in here as practice for us.” Bill hissed down to Greg as blood dripped from his lip. 

Greg flinched as Paul approached and thrust something into his face. He was surprised to find it a bottle of water. Greg flicked his eyes up at his torturers.   
“It ain’t poison, mate. What’d we just say? He wants somethin’ from ya. That means, ya don’t get ta go dyin’ ’til he gets it.” Paul said, and shoved the top of the bottle into Greg’s mouth.  
Greg considered trying to drown from the water, but knew he’d not be able to manage that. So he just conceded and drank. He was desperately thirsty, after all. 

~

Mycroft sat in the tea room, twirling his phone in his hand. It wasn’t like Gregory to blatantly ignore him like this. He’d been upset, but hadn’t wanted to end things suddenly and never speak. He decided to call again. 

“Gregory… I’m calling because, well… I don’t know why you haven’t responded to my messages. I don’t appreciate being ignored. No, that’s not why I called. Not to guilt you. I …  actually… I just miss you. I miss talking with you. I’m honestly getting a bit worried about you. Please call me.” 

Mycroft sighed as he put his phone away. He tried to tell himself that everything was fine, and Gregory was just taking some time out away somewhere for the week since he didn’t have to work. And avoiding talking with Mycroft was just one of the ways he was relaxing. It didn’t really fit with what Mycroft knew of Gregory’s personality, but the alternatives made Mycroft’s stomach clench. He decided that he’d call again in the evening, and if he still didn’t respond by morning… then he’d have to get Anthea to check up on him. 

~

“But did you do it?” Bill snarled into Greg’s ear.  
“No… forget it. You fucking suck!” Greg snapped back despite the pain. He had his eyes clenched shut. Paul was trickling acid of some kind down his back. It stung and burnt, but compared to the agony of the alcohol yesterday, it wasn’t so bad. Bill grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head upwards.  
“Tell me… did you interrogate Kevin yourself, or is there someone else?” Bill insisted.   
“If you think I’m going to single out a colleague for this kind of treatment, you’re outta your god damned mind.” Greg snapped.   
“Erg. Look at this.  Zero fucks given. Next please. Paul?” Bill said, letting go of Greg’s hair and standing in frustration.  
“On it. How ‘bout some bleach instead?” Paul suggested. Greg hoped he’d put the bleach over the acid on his back. These thugs didn’t seem like they’d understand redox reactions. Well, Greg only really understood that acid and alkaline cancel out or something … something to do with pH.   
“No, enough with the chemicals for today. Give me the chain.” Bill commanded.  
Greg opened his eyes to see a long chain being dragged from the table. If he wasn’t in pain, or scared, he would have rolled his eyes at the cliché. So many chains. He closed his eyes again and braced for whatever was coming. He’d found that trying to pretend he wasn’t really there, trying to disconnect, was slightly better than watching it happen. 

~

Mycroft paced uncomfortably in his small room. It wasn’t because of his job…no, that was almost sorted. He could even leave soon. It was because of Gregory. He’d received no communication _still_ , and he was getting very worried. He tried to tell himself that if something had happened to him, he’d be contacted. After all, the Yard had known about their relationship. It did little to quell the panic in his gut. He’d told himself that he’d call one more time, and wait until morning. It was taking a lot of strength to comply with his decision. 

“Gregory…please, I’m worried. I don’t care if it’s just you shouting insults at me. Really. I just need to know you’re ok. I just need to hear you say something. It can be  anything, just call me, ok? Please.” Mycroft pleaded to Gregory’s voicemail. He took a deep breath, and sat on the bed. There wasn’t anything more to be done until the morning. He glanced at the covers. He would consider staying up and waiting for a response…if he wasn’t so exhausted. The heat and the work had made him tired.  
“Well, it’d probably be better if I could sleep away the hours I’d be waiting.” Mycroft mumbled to himself. 

~

_Mycroft looked around, walking in a circle. Everything was white. He blinked a few times, and could make out some shapes up ahead. He approached them, and saw that they were in fact people. He got closer, and saw that one of them was sitting on a wall of some kind, facing away from him, and the other was standing close by. It was… Sherlock.  
_ _“Hello, brother mine.” Sherlock’s deep baritone spoke once Mycroft arrived.  
_ _“Sherlock…what?” Mycroft began to ask, but he was stopped in his tracks when he saw that the man on the wall was Gregory.  
_ _“Gregory!” Mycroft shouted, but the man didn’t move.  
_ _“Mycroft… you’re just visiting. He can’t hear you until you sit with him.” Sherlock explained. Mycroft just looked at him questioningly.  
_ _“Visiting? Where? What’s going on?” Mycroft asked. Sherlock gave him a sad, sympathetic look. It was a strange expression to see on his little brother’s face.  
_ _“_ _Is this your first time_ __? ” Sherlock asked. Mycroft still didn’t understand. Sherlock sighed. 

_“They killed him, Mycroft. You’re visiting him in the afterlife.”  
_ _“There’s no such…_ _killed him? wait,_ what, _literally?_ _Who did? He’s dead?!” Mycroft shouted, physically jumping. Panic overwhelmed him.  
_ _“Relax, brother. That’s why I’m here. To help you come to terms with it.” Sherlock said.  
_ _“_ _No, I don’t need you._ _I just need Gregory.” Mycroft snapped, his heart racing.  
_ _“You can speak with him, but first I …”  
_ _“No Sherlock._ _I don’t need you, really_ _. Just let me speak to him.” Mycroft insisted. Sherlock shut his mouth, and nodded. He took a step backwards and indicated to a section of wall for Mycroft to sit on. He stepped forward and climbed over the stone, so that he was sitting beside Gregory._

_“Mycroft…_ _you can’t be here now._ _” Gregory spoke, his voice distant and sad.  
_ _“Why not?”  
_ _“Because you’re not dead. You don’t belong here. You know,_ _sometimes, I wish you died_ _too. Just so I wouldn’t be so lonely here. But I can’t have you here like this…it’s hurting you.” Gregory said, sighing, his voice even sadder. He turned to look at Mycroft with his large brown eyes. Mycroft found that there were tears running down his cheeks.  
_ _“Don’t cry, love. It’ll be ok._ _Eventually…you just move on_ _.” Gregory spoke, reaching up to softly wipe the tears off Mycroft’s face.  
_ _“No… you can’t be dead, Gregory… I can’t go back without you. I need you.” Mycroft said, his voice breaking. Gregory smiled, his eyes remaining mournful.  
_ _“You can’t stay here, and I can’t go with you. This is just so you can say goodbye._ _You really need to go_ _. ” Gregory spoke softly. Mycroft just shook his head, and then reached and and grasped him firmly.  
_ _“_ _Letting go hurts… a lot._ _Too much. I’ll just stay.” Mycroft said, his chin on Gregory’s shoulder.  
_ _“You can’t do that.”  
_ _“_ _So what? You did it_ _. I can too.”  
_ _“No, I died… I wasn’t the one that killed me, and you’re still alive.” Gregory countered, but softly stroked Mycroft’s back.  
_ _“I don’t want to be, not without you.” Mycroft whispered. “I’m so sorry, Gregory… I never meant to hurt you.”  
_ _“I know, love.”_

_They remained there for a moment, not saying anything. There was nothing but the whiteness and the wall, but Mycroft knew that he just couldn’t see what was there. It wasn’t for him.  
_ _“What’s going to happen when I leave? Where will you go?” Mycroft asked.  
_ _“Well… I’ll sit here and watch for a while,_ _and then everything just disappears_. _” Greg said, kissing the top of Mycroft’s head.  
_ _“Watch… over me?”  
_ _“Mhmm.” Gregory hummed in agreement. Mycroft was shaking as he cried into Gregory’s chest.  
_ _“Hey now… don’t cry, remember? This is good… we get closure, this way. We get to say goodbye.” Gregory soothed. Mycroft sat up to look into his eyes again.  
_ _“I won’t ever forget you, dear. You were the love of my life, and the day I die… I’ll be back.” Mycroft stated, sniffling. Gregory smiled at him, that lovely true smile that Mycroft loved.  
_ _“That means a lot to me, you know. When I first arrived, I was afraid. It was just like one of my nightmares… Once I dreamt that I had died, and I had to watch as people moved on_ _and slowly…I was forgotten_ __. At least I know that’s not going to happen.” Gregory said, taking a deep breath. 

_Gregory leant in and kissed Mycroft softly.  
_ _“It’s time.” He uttered. Mycroft nodded in dismay.  
_ _“I love you.” Mycroft said, trying to force his body to step off the wall.  
_ _“I love you too. And Myc?_ _Kick his ass for me._ _” Greg said, giving him that smile again. Mycroft smiled in return, and nodded. He stood up._

Mycroft jerked awake. He was panting, shaking, and his face was wet as if he’d been crying. He blinked in the darkness.  
_Was it… a dream? Surely it had to be…_

Mycroft felt unsettled that he couldn’t tell. It had seemed to realistic, so emotional… and plausible. In the dream, he’d been told that he’d think it was a dream… so was it? Mycroft tried to reason with himself that it was just a manifestation of his fears, and that there wasn’t an afterlife that one could visit in their dreams. Mycroft shook his head to quieten the thoughts. He reached out and grabbed his phone with a shaking hand.  
_Five in the morning… sod it, I’m calling him._

“Gregory… call me now. It’s urgent.” Mycroft said, aware that his voice sounded panicked and almost grief-stricken. He didn’t bother waiting for a response. He immediately called Anthea. He didn’t care that it was one-thirty in the morning there.  
“Sir?” Anthea answered, her voice groggy.   
“Find Gregory. Now.” Mycroft snapped into the phone.   
“Detective Inspector Lestrade? Yes sir.” Anthea responded, stifling a yawn.   
“So… when’s the next flight?” Anthea asked, knowing her boss would demand to return home immediately. She might as well save time and just ask which flight to book. “Or are you taking a private service?”  
“Private. I will contact you when I have arrived; I shall be departing ASAP. Contact me the moment you have any information.” Mycroft stated, his voice clipped. At this point, he didn’t care if it all was a false alarm. He just needed to see proof that everything was alright with his own eyes. Things had been ‘off’ for too long. 


	5. Rescue

Greg didn’t bother moving when the door opened. He’d lost track of how long he’d been there… part of his mind told him he’d only been there four days, five if he counted today, but he felt like it had been weeks. The scraping of the chair revealed that it was the Boss who’d entered. Greg didn’t look up at him. 

“Well, it seems that your boyfriend has gotten suspicious. He’s suddenly in the country, asking about you. We also now have Scotland Yard starting to investigate your disappearance… and I was so looking forward to watching you break.” He spoke, as if he was disappointed his coffee was cold.   
“So, what? You’re going to kill me now?” Greg asked, still looking at the concrete.   
“Oh, no. I had hoped to get more information out of you before we came to this, but I have to seize the opportunity whilst I have it. It takes quite some money to keep all this running outside of the nosy eyes of the law, and I can’t pass up the chance to make some so easily.”   
Greg looked up. The Boss looked annoyed, more so than ever before. Greg tilted his head. The man didn’t seem interested in explaining himself further. He stood, and left the room. Greg watched as he went, and frowned as he stopped in the doorway.   
“Be sure to feed him again, and don’t bloody him up too bad.” The man instructed.  
“Yes, Boss.” Paul said, nodding. 

Greg felt a strange sensation fill his stomach… was it hope? Was he about to be ‘sold’ to Mycroft? The thought gave him strength enough to eat the roll tossed to him, and sit up straight as Bill walked up to him. He was suddenly punched in the gut, and he felt the food threaten to escape. He clenched his jaw and willed it to remain in his stomach. Another blow…to the head this time. Greg shouted out upon the contact, but returned to his position quick enough. He had stopped retaliating with words or showing any resistance at all. He just blankly let them torture him. Originally, it was because he’d just given up; he didn’t care what was happening anymore, as it was just the slow road to death. He’d found that his captors didn’t hit him as hard once he’d stopped fighting. And so Greg continued to just let it happen… but he couldn’t stop himself flinch before Bill’s fist would make contact with his body. He couldn’t help but close his eyes to stop seeing the blood. And he couldn’t help but yell. But… he didn’t give any more reaction than that. 

“Told ya we’d beat ya.” Bill muttered, chuckling.  
“Ya mightn’t have said much, but we sure as hell broke your spirit. Boss’s happy with that. He wants Mr Holmes ta see that.” Paul sneered, unaware that he’d just confirmed Greg’s theory. So he was being taken to see Mycroft… good. Mycroft would save him. He could finally be free of the pain. Mycroft would ease it. Greg just focused on being able to return to Mycroft, instead of the punches to his body. 

~

Mycroft had asked Sherlock and John to help him find Gregory. He was glad that his little brother had accepted without question. Mycroft’s instincts had been right… no one had seen or heard from Gregory since Sunday morning. He’d left his apartment, and just never returned. Mycroft admitted he was a little harsher on Scotland Yard than he strictly should have been, but he couldn’t help it. He was buzzing from a mix of panic and desperation. He’d only been back in the country for four hours, and yet it felt like it’d been days wherein he’d accomplished nothing. Anthea’s search had hit a dead end… Gregory had met someone, and then just disappeared around a corner. Sherlock was retracing Gregory’s steps. Mycroft was just sitting at his desk, contacting person after person in an effort to try and locate his partner. He glanced at the time.  
“Oh Gregory…  time passes slower without you,” Mycroft mused to himself, “But I will find you.”

He received a call from Sherlock, stating that there had been a scuffle in the alley down from where Gregory had last been seen. It was looking like an abduction. Sherlock was following the trail. Mycroft decided to follow as well, but with the CCTV cameras. He saw a car drive away at the same time any abductors would have needed to escape. He followed the car back to a building complex with surprising difficulty. It was only his determination that had allowed him keep track of the car. He recognised the building it stopped at. It was the base of operations for one of the known organisations that he’d been in the process of bringing down. The gang that Gregory had been closing in on were affiliated with the syndicate leader, and so Mycroft quickly worked out who had taken him and why. 

He didn’t care about the legality of what he was going to do. He just needed to get Gregory back. He contacted the syndicate leader and arranged a meeting to make the exchange. It wasn’t hard to work out that Ajwain wanted money. The meeting location was set, conditions made, and Mycroft agreed to the terms. He knew it was going to be a trap; Ajwain had been after him for years. And so Mycroft needed to work out how to turn the trap in his favour, without putting Gregory’s life at risk. If Ajwain suspected for a moment that he was anything but sincere, he’d kill Gregory without a second thought. Mycroft decided to call Sherlock in for help. 

~

“For once, I was right… Mycroft Holmes does have a heart. Which is lucky for you, Detective.” The Boss announced upon walking into Greg’s cell. Greg looked up and frowned.   
“What are you talking about?” Greg asked, his voice hoarse.   
“We’re going on a little trip.” The man said with a smile, and nodded to his henchmen.  
Paul and Bill then unchained Greg’s arms and cuffed them tightly together in front of him, and then unchained his legs and put a short chain between them. A large longer chain was clipped onto the metal handcuffs, and he was tugged forward. 

Greg found that after so long staying in the one place, his body didn’t want to move. He ached everywhere from all of the injuries, and his legs were sluggish at best.  
“Quicker, you freaking piece of-” The Boss snapped, yanking the chain to pull Greg forward. Greg obliged, groaning. He was taken to a car; Bill and Paul in the rear seat with him, the Boss in the front passenger seat, and a driver. Greg didn’t ask where they were going. He didn’t care that he was still naked. All that mattered was that he could see Mycroft again. 

~

Greg was forced onto his knees. They were on the banks of the Thames, on some concrete platform. It was getting dark, and cold. Greg shivered. The boss seemed impatient, but no one moved. They just waited. 

“Ajwain.” Mycroft’s voice announced as he stepped out of the shadows.   
“Mycroft.” The Boss, Ajwain, said. Greg looked up with relief. He wanted to shout out to him, but knew that it was probably a bad idea.   
“If you think that capturing Detective Inspector Lestrade will give you some kind of power over me, then you are mistaken.” Mycroft said casually, but Greg could hear the venom in his voice.   
“Oh, Mr Holmes, no… this actually didn’t have anything to do with you. I just took the opportunity as I saw it for this little exchange… it wasn’t why I captured him.” Ajwain spoke, in a tone that was eerily similar to Moriarty.   
“Then you tell me why.” Mycroft ordered. His body was stiff, and he tried hard not to look at Gregory. He couldn’t risk his composure breaking now.   
“Simple, really. I just needed to know what he’d gotten out of one of my men. The fact that I’ve roped you into this was just… a happy accident. I’m sure you know, then, that I don’t actually have a problem killing him at all… I’ve got what I wanted. If you give me trouble, I’ll _cut_ my losses.” Ajwain threatened. Mycroft stepped forward.  
“I’ve come without backup, as instructed. But I won’t give you anything until you give him back to me.” Mycroft insisted. Ajwain pursed his lips, and then glanced down at Greg.   
“I don’t know why this one means so much to you. He’s pathetic. He cried and screamed … and I hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.” Ajwain baited.   
“Enough.” Mycroft snapped, taking another step forward. Ajwain quickly drew a gun from his jacket.   
“You’re right. Enough. Maybe I should just shoot him in front of you? Or maybe even… shoot you in front of him?” Ajwain said, smiling, and pointed the gun at Mycroft. Greg’s breath caught in his throat… but Mycroft looked simply unamused.   
“And so the true reason of your meeting reveals itself.” Mycroft hummed.  
“Well, the money would also have been acceptable. I’m surprised at you, Mycroft. This was so clearly a trap…and yet you walked right into it. Goes to show you that you’ve gone soft… it seems caring really isn’t an advantage, after all, is it?” Ajwain teased, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. Greg wondered what there was between them that caused this conflict.  
“Yes.” Mycroft stated, bringing his hands up in surrender, “I care. A great deal. And I don’t care if it’s not an advantage. I love him. He’s… my everything, and if he’ll have me… my fiancé.” 

Greg’s eyes blew wide in shock, and then a smile broke out over his face. He nodded gently in response to Mycroft, who was now staring directly at him.   
“Yes.” Greg said quietly. He couldn’t believe what was happening… but it was amazing. Yesterday he thought he’d die alone in a cell, and now… he was engaged.   
“Aw, isn’t that nice? Till death do you part.” Ajwain said, clocking the pistol.   
“You’ve miscalculated, Ajwain. If there’s one thing you never put in a trap, it’s a Holmes.” Mycroft said smugly. It seemed to get under Ajwain’s skin.  
“You’re right where I want you!” He shouted. Mycroft smiled.  
“I wasn’t talking about myself.” Mycroft said. 

Suddenly, Ajwain tensed and jerked, falling to the ground. Sherlock stood behind him, on the edge of the concrete ledge, holding a taser. Bill and Paul swung around and grabbed Sherlock, and a fight ensured quickly. John immediately leapt out of the shadows to join, gun in hand. Unfortunately, Bill clobbered Greg in the head while whipping out his weapon, and Greg fell backwards…over the ledge. Mycroft saw it happen in slow motion… and leapt forward. He grabbed the chain that was still being dragged down with Gregory into the Thames. But it was too heavy…and Mycroft found himself unable to keep a grip. He instantly decided to allow himself to fall forward into the frigid water and attempt to pull them both out to safety. 

“Mycroft!” Sherlock shouted, watching his brother slip into the water. He punched Paul forcefully, the man swaying and falling to the ground. He then looked at John.  
“Help them! I’ve got this. I’ll call 999.” Sherlock demanded, and John obliged. He ran down the edge of the concrete; following the Thames while keeping a desperate eye out for Mycroft and Greg. 

Mycroft’s body was freezing, but he refused to let go of the chain. The current was strong, and he was barely able to keep himself up for long enough to take a breath. He struggled to fight against the rushing water, frantically attempting to drag Gregory over to the bank. Mycroft gasped for air, suddenly thinking it was a bad decision… but the alternative was for Gregory to fall in alone, and they wouldn’t be able to find him in time within the murky depths. 

Summoning all his strength, Mycroft pulled the chain. He managed to drag Gregory up to him, and so he grabbed onto his partner with frozen hands. The current died down a little, and Mycroft was able to pull both of their bodies up high enough to break the surface of the water. He looked about for the edge, and found a wide rocky bank close by. They’d travelled a reasonable distance in the short period of time. Looping his left arm around Gregory, he swam wildly towards the bank. 

The moment his feet touched the ground, he was able to stand and drag Gregory to shore. it. Once they were clear of the water, Mycroft managed to lay Gregory down and hovered over him, coughing and spluttering. Gregory wasn’t moving… he wasn’t even breathing.  
_Shit, shit, shit…_

Mycroft hastily rolled Gregory onto his side and pulled his head back to clear his airway. Water poured out, and Mycroft waited with baited breath for him to gasp in air. But it never happened. Mycroft felt adrenaline surge through his body, and in his panicked state, he couldn’t remember the exact procedure of what to do. He decided that he’d try get as much water out as possible, and so pushed down on Gregory’s side to expel what he could from the man’s lungs. More water drained out, and then Mycroft rolled him onto his back. 

He didn’t care if giving rescue breaths was currently considered part of first aid or not… it had been when he’d first learnt resuscitation, and then it wasn’t, and then it was again… Mycroft decided to just go with his gut instinct and clasp his mouth around Gregory’s. He breathed out, forcing air to expand Gregory’s chest. He did it again, and then rested his ear to the freezing skin. Mycroft’s heart was pounding so much that he doubted he’d be able to feel for a pulse even if his hands weren’t numb from the cold. The silence he heard was gut-wrenching. He started shaking, and he was sure it wasn’t to do with the hypothermia. 

Mycroft immediately put his hands on Gregory’s chest and started compressing. He stared at the lifeless face below him; the grey hair stuck to his head, the bruising over his eyes and cheeks, and the cuts that continued downwards. Mycroft suddenly was aware that he was crying.   
“Please, you can’t die now.” Mycroft begged hopelessly. He finished his count, and then moved back down to give more breaths. He was starting to get light-headed, but he didn’t care. He had to keep going. He pressed down once more in an as regular rhythm as he could manage.  
“Please don’t leave me alone. I need you.” Mycroft whimpered. 

He heard someone shouting at him as they approached. He looked up to see John Watson barrelling towards him.   
“Fuck! Mycroft, let me.” John commanded, and Mycroft obeyed without question. He slumped and stared hopelessly as the doctor began to take over CPR for him.   
“Mycroft, this’ll be easier if you breathe for him.” John instructed, and Mycroft just nodded. He waited for instruction on when to breathe for Gregory, spending the rest of the time completely void of thought. All that remained was distraught and panicky feelings.   
“Sherlock’s called an ambulance. They should be here soon.” John tried to reassure Mycroft.  
“Breathe, Gregory…please….” Mycroft uttered. John said nothing, and just kept working. 

“It’s…it’s been too long.” Mycroft whispered, his shaking getting more intense. John shook his head.   
“Hypothermia. Better response. Don’t stop until he’s warm.” John spoke, his voice short from the exertion.  
“This…  this isn’t want I wanted.” Mycroft said. John didn’t respond. He knew Mycroft was blaming himself for the situation, but didn’t have it in him to argue at that moment. All of his focus was on trying to keep his friend alive. 

They heard sirens approach, finally, and then Sherlock’s voice shouting. The paramedics rushed down to the bank, equipment in hand. John spouted off information at them while stepping back to let them work. He then moved over to where Mycroft knelt, shaking profusely and looking dazed. One of the medics laid a blanket over Greg’s lower body, and passed one to John to wrap over Mycroft. The other medic was already hooking Greg up to a defibrillator.  
“It’ll be ok, Mycroft. This isn’t your fault, alright?” John spoke, rubbing Mycroft’s back over the blanket. Mycroft shook his head. The shock was delivered, and they were able to get a weak pulse. The paramedics loaded him up onto the stretcher, asking for John and Sherlock to help lift it out of the rocks. Sherlock followed them to the ambulance, and John returned for Mycroft, who remained unmoving. 

John knelt to look him straight in the eyes.  
“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked directly.   
“No.  Nothing can hurt me now… not after seeing… this…” Mycroft breathed.   
“Mycroft, if you’re injured, we should take you as well. You’re already hypothermic…”  
“Don’t you get it?  Nothing matters anymore to me. Not my job, not myself…just him. Help him.” Mycroft snapped. 

John knew Mycroft was in shock from it all, and probably couldn’t feel pain from any injuries if he had them. He decided to just help him up to the road, where he, Sherlock, and Mycroft, could follow the ambulance to the hospital. Mycroft moved slowly and leant on John more than the doctor expected, and so he had to get Sherlock to help half-carry him. The ambulance had already left to the hospital.   
“Greg?” John asked Sherlock as they lowered Mycroft down onto a bench.   
“Alive, still, when they drove away. I’m hopeful.” Sherlock responded. “Mycroft?”  
“Mild hypothermia and shock, probably exhausted, but seems to be alright.” John stated, fully aware that Mycroft could hear them. Mycroft didn’t say anything… he just stared straight ahead. 


	6. Resolve

Mycroft hadn’t left Gregory’s side since being allowed into his room. He held onto his hand constantly. The doctors had given Mycroft a clean bill of health once he’d warmed up, and so he’d been allowed to stay in with Gregory until he woke. The list of injuries on Gregory’s chart made Mycroft nauseous.  
“My poor, dear Gregory. I’m so sorry.” Mycroft whispered. He rested his head on the bed, and found himself drifting off to sleep. 

Greg could hear the distant beeping of a machine. As he became more aware of himself, he realised that he was laying down. And he hurt…a lot. Everywhere. He opened his eyes and saw that he was in hospital, and that Mycroft was asleep holding his hand. He smiled warmly. And then suddenly, the events of the past week came crashing over him. He was… safe. Mycroft had saved him. 

“Mycroft.” Greg rasped. Mycroft stirred, and then his eyes flew wide open.   
“Gregory!” Mycroft exclaimed. Greg chuckled.   
“So… did you miss me?”   
“Like you wouldn’t believe. I’m so, so sorry… I never meant for this to happen… if I hadn’t have left, I would have…” Mycroft began to rant.   
“Shh, Mycroft… it’s ok. You came through for me.  So how about a hug, hm?” Greg comforted, and moved his arms out to the side.   
“I… it would be best if I didn’t. You’re still hurt.” Mycroft said, awkwardly. He desperately wanted to hug him, but he didn’t want to cause more pain. Greg nodded… it was a fair point.   
“Is it bad?” Greg asked.  
“You …  you look like an accident involving a chemical truck and a kitchen supplies van.” Mycroft stated, noting the chemical burns and the excessive knife wounds. Greg smiled, his eyes were sad and haunted with memories. Mycroft gripped his hand tightly. 

“We’ll…we’ll make it better, dear. You’ll get through this.” Mycroft said. Greg swallowed, and nodded. He was starting to feel the realisation of everything that happened to him. Tremors rippled through his body.   
“Do you need the doctor?” Mycroft asked. Greg shook his head.   
“Not just yet. In a minute. There’s something I have to ask first.”   
“Alright…” Mycroft said, uncertain. He was certain Gregory was going to ask about why he was taken. Why Mycroft allowed him to be used in the power plays of his work. Why Mycroft didn’t save him sooner.   
“So…what are we now?”  
“I’m sor— what?” Mycroft stated.   
“Back before I was knocked out… you said something.”  
“I said I love you. And…and that you were my fiancé.” Mycroft said, hesitantly bringing up his impromptu proposal. He’d been extremely emotional at the time, and while he didn’t regret it in the slightest…he didn’t want to scare Gregory off.   
“Why?”  
“Why do I love you? Because you’re…”  
“No, why did you propose? Then, of all times? Was it just to keep them distracted, keep them talking, until Sherlock got in position?” Greg asked. He had to know that it wasn’t all just a ploy.   
“W-what? Lord, no! I … I was serious, Gregory. I was so worried about you… and then I found out what had happened… I admit, I was excessively emotional at the time, and that it was not the ideal situation… but I meant it. I honestly meant it. I don’t know how you feel about it now, and if you wish to retract your acceptance…” Mycroft explained, his voice getting strained by the end.   
“I don’t want to ‘retract my acceptance’. I thought I was going to die there, Mycroft. All I could think of was how much I regretted not being able to live my life with you. So of course I still bloody accept.” Greg said. He tried to make it lighthearted at the end, but the seriousness of his words were not lost on Mycroft. He looked pained, and sad, but he smiled. He leant over and kissed Greg gently.  
“It’ll all be ok.” Mycroft whispered. Greg nodded… he knew that there were still a lot of challenges ahead, but he believed his fiancé. 

~

Greg had been released from the hospital after five days. Mycroft had ensured that he was booked in to see a psychiatrist regularly, even if Greg had told him not to worry. Greg kept insisting that he was alright, and he did feel it… until he got home. For some reason, the hospital had been a buffer; some kind of safe refuge between the trauma and reality. Greg tried to hide his panic when he was taken to his flat, but Mycroft could tell something wasn’t right. He had been watching him carefully, after all.   
“Gregory?”  
“I’m fine.” Greg grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets in an attempt to hide the slight shake.   
“It’s ok to not be. Do you want to talk about it?”  
“No.” 

Mycroft gave him a pained expression. Greg tried to ignore it and just focus on getting himself under control. He was just back home, he didn’t understand why it was upsetting him. His effort to reduce his panic was failing spectacularly; his insistence that he should be fine was only seeming to make it worse. Before Greg knew it, he was on the floor. Mycroft approached him, and all Greg could think about was Paul and Bill walking up to him before starting their torturing. He flinched and shied away from Mycroft, who had squatted down in front of him.   
“Gregory… it’s ok, you’re safe. No one is going to hurt you. Just open your eyes for me.” Mycroft said in a gentle soft tone.   
“I… I know… I just… I don’t know why…” Greg spoke between each deep breath.  
“Gregory, you are going to hyperventilate at this rate.” Mycroft commented. He’d read up on how to help people with post-traumatic stress, but when it came to actually doing it… he felt stumped. It was so unlike the strong detective Mycroft knew to cower on the floor. 

Mycroft retreated away, noticing that things had gotten worse from his approach. Thankfully, albeit dishearteningly, Gregory calmed down once Mycroft was at a distance.   
“I’m … sorry, I didn’t mean to make things worse.” Mycroft spoke.   
“It’s…it’s just that’s how they started. Me on the floor, them slowly walking up to hover over me…” Greg uttered. His voice was quiet but laden with pain.   
“Do you want me to leave?” Mycroft asked. He really didn’t want to leave Gregory alone; he was worried about him deeply, and personally found himself with a heightened anxiety when they were separated. But if it’s what Gregory needed for now, he’d do it.   
“I… maybe. Just for a little.” Greg spoke.   
“Alright. I’ll be back later on this evening. But, if for any reason you want to talk or don’t feel safe…  you know who to call. I will answer, international crisis be damned.”   
“Thank you.” Greg said, managing to stand once again. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, however. Mycroft swallowed awkwardly, and cleared his throat.   
“Right then. Just… just make sure you’ve eaten, ok?” Mycroft instructed. Gregory hadn’t shown much interest in food while in the hospital, and he’d been seemingly alright then.  
“There’s a turn, you telling me to eat.” Greg tried to joke, but it just came off as sad. 

There was a silence, and then Mycroft turned and left. It was like walking through mud, walking away from Gregory. Every fibre of his being wanted to go back and just hold the man close in his arms, but he couldn’t. Not if it was going to hurt him. All he could do was hope that everything would be alright, and that Gregory would call him the moment it wasn’t. 

Greg walked into his room, and sat on the bed. He liked it being familiar, but Mycroft’s absence was suddenly very noticeable. The place was empty, and the loneliness was crushing him. He wondered if it would be alright to call Mycroft back already, but another part of him told himself that he should be stronger than that. That he could handle being alone until dinner time. But he knew he couldn’t just sit on the bed and do nothing… and so, Greg stood and put on some music. It helped… but not as much as he’d hoped. 

Mycroft sat in his car outside of Gregory’s flat. He didn’t want to drive away. The driver knew better than to ask for directions, and so allowed his boss to just sit in the back seat staring out the window. Mycroft squeezed his hands together. His heart was still pounding and the anxiety was threatening to close his throat up. He didn’t know why, exactly, either. He felt like he didn’t have the right to feel post-traumatic stress, despite the doctors saying it was normal to experience after a situation where he’d had to resuscitate his fiancé. He was Mycroft Holmes, he told himself, and Mycroft Holmes could handle anything. Well, maybe the pre-Gregory Lestrade version could, but the emotional man he was now wasn’t coping as expected. He decided that while he had to be physically separated from Gregory, he could still text him. 

  * **Gregory, do you feel any better? MH**



**** Mycroft eyed the building, wondering what Gregory was doing at that moment. When he heard his text alert chime, he smiled. Gregory was looking at his phone, apparently. 

  * **Honestly no. It’s too much like being alone in the cell, wishing you’d come for me.**
  * ******I can come back in. MH**
  * ******I… I don’t want to trouble you, making you come all the way back.**
  * ******It is never trouble, dear. I actually haven’t left. I’m still out the front. I will come back in, if you wish me to. MH**
  * ******Yes.**



**** Mycroft nodded to himself and got out of the car. He instructed the driver to just drive home, and he’d call for when he needed to leave. 

Greg was pacing near the front door. He was glad that Mycroft was coming for him, disappointed in himself for not lasting half an hour alone, and curious as to why Mycroft hadn’t left. He heard the footsteps outside his door, and opened it. Mycroft immediately stepped forward and embraced him. Greg stiffened at the sudden contact, but then relaxed into the hold. He hugged Mycroft back, leaning against him. Mycroft usually wasn’t this physical - at least, not in this context. 

“Mycroft… what’s with you?” Greg asked, pulling his face out of Mycroft’s chest.   
“I… I do not like being apart from you.”   
“I gathered,” Greg said, “But I don’t understand why. It’s more than just being here for me, it’s like you need it for you.”  
“Of course I need it for me.” Mycroft mumbled, still not letting Greg go.   
“Yeah, and while I like it, I just… it’s not really like you. So what happened?”   
“You were captured and tortured while I was sulking from a fight, that’s what.”   
“And you need to be sure that I’m not captured again?” Greg asked, breaking the hug.  
“Well, yes, there’s that. It’s not… a logical thought process.” Mycroft muttered, clearly ashamed. Greg frowned. He knew there was something that Mycroft wasn’t telling him. He’d seen that look enough beforehand. 

“Come. Sit with me. I need to talk.’ Greg said, phrasing it so that Mycroft would be less inclined to refuse. Greg pulled Mycroft by the arm over to the couch, where they sat half-facing each other.   
“What happened, Mycroft?” Greg asked, and Mycroft’s eyes flicked away awkwardly.   
“I thought you said you wanted to talk, not listen.” Mycroft responded.  
“Alright, I want to listen then. There’s something you’re not telling me. And that something has affected you quite a bit. Don’t deny it, I can see it plain enough. We are engaged, after all… I know you better than most.” 

Mycroft sighed and sagged.   
“Alright. When you were knocked unconscious, you fell into the Thames.”  
“Ok…?”  
“I managed to grab a hold of the chains you were bound with, and thus able to pull you out.”   
“And?” Greg asked, seeing the look Mycroft gave him.   
“And… I had to jump in after you to keep a hold of the chains. I… I tried my best to keep you above the water, but the current was strong and the water freezing… I could barely break the surface enough for air myself.”   
“… And?”  
“And… so, when I finally managed to get you to the bank, you… you weren’t breathing.”   
“Oh.” Greg stated, the information a little unsettling. “Was that all, or was I…?”  
“You had no pulse, either. Technically, you were…”  
“Dead.” Greg finished, looking at the floor. He took a few deep breaths before returning his gaze to Mycroft. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Greg asked.   
“We… I… thought that perhaps it was best for you to come to terms with the torture before putting that on you. I was afraid that learning this information would to more harm than good for the time being.” Mycroft spoke quietly.   
“I can understand your reasoning, Mycroft, but you still should have told me.”  
“I’m sorry.” Mycroft said, reaching out and holding Gregory’s hand. They stayed there in silence for a few moments. 

“Mycroft?”  
“Hm?”  
“Were you the one to save me?”  
“No, you were still dead until the paramedics came and defibrillated you.” Mycroft whispered.   
“That’s not what I meant, but good to know I guess. I wanted to know if you resuscitated me.”   
“John was there.”  
“That doesn’t answer my question.” Greg insisted.   
“Okay it was me… so?” Mycroft all but snapped, and then rubbed his face with his hands.  
“Hey, I wasn’t … I just needed to know, because it would explain your behaviour.” Greg said, moving closer to Mycroft. 

“I hadn’t been that scared in my whole life, Gregory.” Mycroft uttered, leaning so that he rested against Greg’s shoulder. Greg held him.   
“You didn’t want to talk about what they did to you… and so I felt like I shouldn’t talk with you about that happening either. But I can’t talk about it with anyone else… and I can’t stop myself from feeling utter panic whenever I’m not around you. It’s like I need to constantly see that you are ok, that you’re alive… or my subconscious rages against me.” Mycroft continued.   
“I never meant to stop you talking about things…” Greg said, and kissed Mycroft’s temple.   
“I tell myself that I shouldn’t be feeling like this. I try to push it away, like I used to with all emotions… but since loving you, I haven’t had that kind of control over myself. I couldn’t do anything but try and stay with you.”   
“Mycroft… you need to understand that we’re a couple. Things that happen to me don’t just happen to me, they happen to you too. If I’m taken and tortured, or die and am resuscitated… all of that pain is normal for you to feel too. Especially if you’re involved in it all as well. Don’t ever feel ashamed of suffering for that, alright?” Greg said.   
“But you’ve been coping so well, I couldn’t bring it up…”  
“I think it was more detachment than coping, love. Since getting back it’s all been a bit overwhelming. The smallest things suddenly remind me of what happened, I get overwhelmed by anxiety from just you walking up to me… and then again from being alone. And it hasn’t even been an hour yet. I think it’s safe to say I’m not coping either.” Greg sighed. 

“Can I hold you?” Mycroft asked innocently, and Greg noticed the redness of his eyes.   
“Of course, dear.” Greg responded, shifting so that he could rest in Mycroft’s embrace.  
“We’ll get through this,” Mycroft whispered, “But I would really like you to talk about your feelings and experience. Just admitting what happened to you has helped me, and I think it’d help you too.” 

Greg closed his eyes, and nodded. He took a deep breath, and began recounting what had happened, from the beginning. 

~

“Rise and shine, sweet thing.” Mycroft said to Greg’s sleeping form beside him.   
“NO!” Greg shouted, making Mycroft jump. He flinched away, curling up into a ball.  
“Gregory…it’s ok, you’re safe… you’re in your bedroom, with me…your fiancé…see?” Mycroft tried to reassure, his own heart pounding from adrenaline. 

Greg was shaking and panting, his eyes clenched shut. Mycroft didn’t know what had happened or what to do other than try and gently calm Gregory down. There had been a few nightmares in the night, which ended in Gregory crying and clenching Mycroft tightly. Mycroft had been glad he’d stayed the night, especially after Gregory had gotten through everything that had been done to him.   
“Mycroft?” Greg asked wearily.   
“Yes, I’m here. It’s all ok.” Mycroft said, tentatively resting his hand on Gregory’s shoulder.   
“I’m… sorry.” Greg sniffled.   
“It’s ok, nothing to be sorry about. We knew it was going to be a tough time for a bit.” Mycroft said, trying to smile. It betrayed the concern in his gut, but he needed to try and make Gregory feel better.   
“It’s just… seeing it all, in my dreams… and then you… saying that…”   
“I don’t understand, what did I say?” Mycroft said, recounting the morning. He then remembered how he’d woken Gregory. “Oh, sorry… I didn’t think it’d affect you.”   
“It’s just… they said that to me, before starting…hurting me.” Greg said, unfurling himself.   
“Oh.” Mycroft stated. He didn’t really know what to make of that.  
“Well, replace ‘sweet thing’ with ‘motherfucker’, and you get closer.” Greg sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. His whole body was aching… he must have thrashed about in the night quite a lot. 

“I’m sorry.” Mycroft whispered. Greg just shook his head at him and sat upright.   
“What is on the agenda for today?”   
“I… I couldn’t sleep very well. And so for most of the night, I stayed up, watching over you. While I did so, I attempted to find your friend.”   
“Alex?” Greg asked, frowning. The pit of his stomach fell. He was going to go into the office and look up recent homicides to be sure… but it seemed Mycroft beat him to it.   
“Yes. And I can see you’re expecting a trip to the morgue, and so let me assuage that concern right now. Alex is not dead. He is in a coma, still, but he his alive. He was found shot a few blocks from where you were abducted. He was lucky, apparently, that a teenager was searching for her missing phone from the previous evening… or he wouldn’t have been found in time.”  
“He’s… alive?” Greg breathed, a weight being lifted from his chest.  
“Yes dear,” Mycroft reiterated, “I had thought that you might like to visit him.”   
“I would, thank you.” Greg said, and stood.   
“But first… you have an appointment with your therapist.” Mycroft reminded.  
“I still think you should see someone too, you know.” Greg commented. Some of the things Mycroft had talked to him about yesterday were concerning, the nightmare and the rescue in particular, and Greg knew he wasn’t in a place to be the sole support person for his fiancé right now. 

Mycroft walked up to him and kissed him gently.   
“I will. I normally would be opposed to it, but you need me to be as well as I can be to support you.”   
“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Myc.” Greg laughed, and kissed him in return. Mycroft rolled his eyes, but smiled. Greg hugged him around his middle.   
“Thank you for saving me.” Greg said quietly.   
“You saved me first.” Mycroft commented. It was true… before Gregory came into his life, he was cold and detached, and he didn’t realise how empty and _dead_ he felt until Gregory brought him to life.  
“So we’re even now?” Greg said, smiling.  
“Always.” Mycroft spoke, and kissed Gregory’s forehead.

It was a rocky start to a new life together, but it was a start none the less. And it proved that they could get through anything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it... 97 five-word prompts wound into one story.


End file.
